Batman Needs a Robin
by plude
Summary: Nightwing reflects about being Robin among other things. Slash/Yaoi main pairing


Warnings: Slash/Yaoi pairings, Het pairings, slightly hinted non-con

Beta: Ritsu-chan

Disclaimer: "Batman", "Nightwing", "Robin", "Teen Titans" and all associated titles are properties of DC Comics.

This fic directly refers to something that happened in "Robin: Year One" but you don't have to have read it to understand. Other than that, this story references to a multitude of things that happen throughout the comics and stories. The mention of "impulse" is not supposed to be a reference to the character "Impulse" although I do love him. :3

Any questions, comments, or critiques are always welcome and appreciated.

Batman Needs a Robin

His words echo in my head; "Batman needs a Robin" was all he said.

What did he mean by it? My first thought was the closest to happy I'd ever felt since that day in the circus… you know which day… I thought he would tell me how much he needed me and that he wanted me to come home to be with him. I was wrong… dead wrong. He meant it was time for a replacement, not just a replacement Robin but a replacement son; not that we ever had that sort of relationship. I was never his son. I never thought of him as any sort of blood relation in fact, but we were still family. I never thought he would just replace me… in his home and in his city.

It's my own fault. I never should have let it happen. I should have never given in. Temptation got the best of me, and I know that. I just wanted it so bad. I needed it. I was sixteen. Temptation got the best of me. Impulse led to trouble. Impulse led to the end.

Now it's over. Now I have my own city… What a joke… my own city… There is no such thing as home for a circus boy. Home is the open road, the wind in your hair, the danger in your heart, the tightrope at your feet… the mask hiding your face. It's over now. The only simulation of home is gone. Now it's just me… just me and 'my' city... I'm just like him.

…And what about her? She was always there… watching me… helping me. She stood by my side as she isolated herself from me… she loved me from afar… but she loved herself enough to push me away. When she gave in I loved her enough to push back, keeping her at arms reach. She's the 'oracle' of the warm life I might've had.

I replaced her with another and another… fiery and rare just like her… the others gave me temporary solace but could not mend the wounds the way she would have.

Now it's just me again. In the end it's always just me. Everyone dies alone, but I guess I'm to live alone… just like him.

I'm just like him! I'm just like him! What's wrong with me?! I swore I'd never be like him and here I am… alone and obsessed.

This lifestyle kills you slowly. You might be surprised considering all the bullet holes, scrapes, and stitches, but the death is slow. The death claims your soul and seeps into every part of you.

I should have never let it happen. I might still be there now… with him… neither of us as alone as we are and forever will be. Why did I have to let it happen?

Could I blame it on hormones or drugs? I wasn't the one influenced by the Scarecrow poison… although it wouldn't have mattered in his eyes. All he saw was a childhood being torn apart. He missed the fact that Robin was the only thing saving it. Robin was my alias, my lover, my friend, my childhood, my innocence, my lack there of, my life, my reason for going on…

Sure, things like this had happened before, but not with him. He almost fired me then too… the time with Two-Face and the baseball bat. What a joke 'firing' as if I were an employee.

Maybe I am an employee… a servant to the weak and helpless, the suffering and the battered. They are why I carry on. They are why I fight this fight. I'm sure the same could be said for him.

I guess the time has come to see him again and exchange formalities like we do as we greet each other and dine together quietly in a hallowed room. Despite the discomfort I'd like to say this happens once a week or even once a month, but time passes distantly between our 'visits'. What a laugh, I thought 'visiting' required talking and exchanging. We only talk of important business and quietly eat as uneasiness hangs heavy in the room like a soaked blanket smothering a fire. I pretend everything is fine… so does he.

It's not fine! Nothing is fine! Nothing will ever be fine! …but that has nothing to do with him… and everything to do with him… he will never be fine. He will always be like a glass statue knocked from the top of the stairwell… and so will I.

Why can't we be this way together; two halves of a whole? I know it's my fault and yet… Jason Todd… He has a son now, the son I could have never been. He would deny it but there was always something more between us… something unspoken… something that he'd never want but I still crave like a heroine addict would crave a hit. I want him. I want him. I want him!

Why doesn't he want me? Why doesn't he… Why doesn't he love me?

plude


End file.
